


Sinnah Wood

by Temve



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temve/pseuds/Temve
Summary: It was a piece of sculpted wood, and as promised, it didn't bite. But it did cut Obi-Wan wide open.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 41





	Sinnah Wood

**Author's Note:**

> It all started with a nice dream that landed me with the line about your favorite pair of hands... and then it grew a bit angsty. Oops.

“Go on, open it. I promise it won’t bite.” 

Quinlan Vos was practically vibrating with anticipation, and it added a further layer of un-Jedi-likeness to his already supremely un-Jedi-like state of attire.

“That’s not much of a promise coming from you, Vos,” Obi-Wan replied in what he hoped was his best negotiator voice. “Notice how you did not exclude the verbs _sting_ , _scream_ , or _spray ink all over your nice clean tunics, Padawan Kenobi_ ”. In truth, only the latter had been an actual thing one of Quinlan’s gifts had actually done to him, and Quinlan, once he had caught his breath between belly laughs, had sworn up and down that he had had no idea that pentapuses did that when confined in a box for too long. Or, really, what constituted a pentapus’ idea of ‘too long’ and wasn’t it cute latching on to Obi-Wan’s chest with its stubby little tentacles, like an exquisite piece of ceramic jewelry that just happened to sit in a dripping pool of its own ink?

Yeah, that had not gone well. 

“I promise this one is inanimate, Kenobi. Open it. Pleeease?”

“All right, all right.” Obi-Wan carefully opened the lid of the small oblong box. Inside was what looked like a wooden sculpture, a gently curved object that looked like something between a furled leaf and a tongue, ostensibly made of some kind of densely grained wood and polished to satin smoothness from its thick stem to its slightly curved tip. 

“Pretty,” Obi-Wan observed cautiously. “And heavy. What is it?”

“This,” Quinlan smirked, “is a relaxation aid. One of the more powerful ones.”

“Is this a … sex toy?” Obi-Wan frowned, wishing Quinlan would stop bringing the matter up in his usual suggestive way. Not that Padawan Vos was an unattractive human being, but… well, it was complicated, and Obi-Wan had no desire to discuss it right now.

“Ah,” Quinlan replied with a warm smile, “so you _do_ have a dirty part to your mind after all.”

“There’s nothing dirty about being aware of your body’s needs, Vos,” Obi-Wan replied stiffly. 

“That’s a relief,” Quinlan said simply. “I mean, I know that you’re not interested in the occasional tumble with the rest of us Padawans but it’s good to know that you’re at least not denying yourself the... one-handed kata.” Quinlan’s wink remained unanswered. “Please tell me you actually relieve that giant ball of pent-up sexual energy inside you every now and then?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Vos, but if it puts your mind at ease, yes I do know how to masturbate. They teach that in basic humanoid biology classes, for Force’s sake.”

“Do they? I must have been distracted.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “If I remember correctly, you were busy making eyes at that skinny Iridonian boy, Master Erdah’s Padawan. And more puns on the words ‘horns’ and ‘horny’ than the world ever needed to hear.”

“So anyway,” Quinlan interrupted brightly, “This little cultural treasure followed me home from a recent mission. Sinnah wood. It’s mildly psychotropic for most humanoid species, and when inserted in an orifice of your choosing, releases a mild stimulant into your bloodstream that relaxes your skeletal muscles while increasing blood flow to the tissues surrounding the insertion point. So basically,” he finished with a flourish, “you’ll feel like your favorite pair of hands is holding you down, everywhere, while you’re being gently fucked by your own heartbeat.”

Obi-Wan swallowed but did not say anything.

“Got you thinking, have I? Good. Because it’s a marvelous state to be in, Obi, believe me. Deliciously drowsy and heavy-limbed to the point that even raising a hand to get yourself off is work, but man is it worth it. You get so sensitive that the slightest touch sets you off. Quite, quite fantastic.”

Obi-Wan nodded, still somewhat dubious, most of his mind busy trying not to scream at the idea of _his favorite pair of hands holding him down, everywhere_. “Thank you, I suppose,” he said finally. “I’m not sure how I feel about something that will alter my perception of my own body, but… I must admit it’s an intriguing concept.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Quinlan grinned. “I mean, I could demonstrate on myself, if you’re amenable.” He produced a similar, slightly darker-colored toy from one of the overly many pockets on his nonstandard uniform, and Obi-Wan realized with a not entirely unpleasant shock that its darker coloration was from a recent application of some kind of oil to its surface. 

“N-not necessary, thank you,” Obi-Wan replied hastily, his cheeks coloring at the thought of Quinlan pleasuring himself shamelessly under his watchful gaze. 

“Be my guest, Kenobi,” Quinlan replied lightly. “And yeah… this one is probably best served with your own fantasies. Wouldn’t want to scar you with some of mine.”

Obi-Wan let out a small laugh. “Appreciated, Quin. Truly.”

Privately, he suspected that the fantasies that Padawan Vos almost certainly indulged in the minute his room’s door had shut behind Obi-Wan featured some version of himself. Probably a rather more promiscuous one than he would ever be comfortable imagining. It was one thing for Vos to be ostensibly happiest when buried somewhere under a pile of wriggling, panting junior Jedi in various states of undress and arousal… but that was not what fueled _his_ occasional masturbation sessions. And Quinlan knew that.

Regrettably, Quinlan probably knew only too well what did. That comment about his favorite pair of hands had not been an accident.

Still, it was only a toy, only an inanimate object that he could use or discard at will. It was not like he was not in control here. Just to be on the safe side, he took a detour through the Room of a Thousand Fountains to let some of the cool spray of the less well-marshalled fountains splash his face back to its accustomed shade. 

***

He’d intended to put the gift away in his cupboard of personal belongings, to be mulled over at a later date… but he’d had to admit that Quinlan’s comments, specifically the one about hands, made it somewhat difficult to focus. To compound the issue, privacy was going to be hard to come by for the next few days as he and his Master were due to ship out on a routine mission to some small Outer Rim world that would involve long hours aboard whatever Republic ship was willing to take them.

It seemed, all things considered, that tonight was indeed the night. 

Here at home, Obi-Wan could be certain that his Master would respect his privacy and not invade his room unless there was some kind of dire emergency. And he was already fully packed and had been planning on getting a good night’s sleep in his own bed before the long space journey.

Well, a little playtime couldn’t hurt, could it? In his experience, orgasm was a marvellous sleeping aid, and as for his Master not invading… Obi-Wan shored up his shields with practiced ease and allowed the words to bloom into images in his head. _My favorite pair of hands holding me down. Everywhere._ Imagining Master Jinn’s one pair of massive warm hands holding him down was usually enough to get him indecently worked up, but imagining them _everywhere_ was… he knew that Jinn was not above frivolous use of the Force, but to imagine all that energy focused on his own pleasure was still… yeah, he’d better get that toy out of its box if he wanted to get a chance at experiencing it before he exploded from just his own fantasies.

Blushing furiously, Obi-Wan ran a cautious finger over the toy’s smooth surface. It seemed completely innocuous, slightly warm to the touch maybe. Odorless. And, importantly, not too large. It would fit comfortably with just a touch of lubrication and be nothing like… that other thing that he only allowed himself to think about behind shields because Qui-Gon _was_ shameless when it came to his own body and… well, large.

He could feel his own heartbeat quickening in his groin. Smoothing a quick drizzle of lubricant on the toy, Obi-Wan briefly debated undressing, then decided to keep his sleep pants on and just shove them out of the way enough to insert the toy. He actually liked the sensation of straining against the fabric of his pants, and was curious as to whether the amplified sensation that Quinlan had promised would be enough to bring him to orgasm hands-free as it were.

_All in the name of research, Kenobi. Who are you kidding?_

Oh, here it came. 

Pleasant. Like a wave of warm weight spreading through his veins, skin prickling with sensation before going slightly numb with a diffuse sense of pressure, like his specific gravity had just increased by a lot. Like something was indeed holding him down. He felt his muscles shut off one by one as the pleasant numbness crept outwards from his center, pinning his legs to the mattress and making his fingers fall slack, one hand against his side, the other melted into his chest where he had left it. 

And the pulse in his groin was indeed intensifying, the pleasant throb getting harder and more insistent. He could feel, beneath the layers of slackened muscle, his insides throbbing with engorged tissues. His cock was fully erect and pushing against the fabric of his leggings, the delicious friction only adding to his pleasure. In his anus, a softer throb surrounded the slim toy where it sat, whispering in his mind of a primal rhythm and another, more welcome intruder.

_Master._

It was almost perfect, the illusion of weight and helplessness in the face of utter pleasure. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and imagined, conjuring up well-worn dreams of possession and the rough caress of sword-callused hands, of the comforting weight of Qui-Gon’s body draped over his, long and warm and powerful and so satisfying to thrust against, those long thighs holding him in delicious captivity -

With a shock that would have made his eyes go wide, Obi-Wan realized he was unable to move his hips. At all. Or his hands. Even his eyes remained stubbornly shut, his whole face slack in an expression of stupendous pleasure when inside he was recoiling in horror.

In quick succession, he cursed himself for not having taken precautions, for trusting Vos, and then cursed Vos for foisting this... thing on him. He was breathing all right, and his heart kept beating a hammering rhythm throughout his greedy flesh, and he was so desperately horny that the slightest touch would have set him off but he was _unable to do anything about it_ and half-certain that Vos had counted on him using this toy with someone else around. Possibly Vos himself. And now his mind was reeling in terror and embarrassment and drowning out the pleasant haze because the only way for him to get out of this… predicament was to call for help. For help that would find him blissed-out, hard and leaking.

For help that would be… well, there was only one person within earshot. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could have blushed any deeper beyond the throb that was already flooding his cheeks and chest. He couldn’t open his eyes to check. 

He also couldn’t get his voice to cooperate. All that came out was a faint reedy sound riding on his breath, the softest of moans. Not sufficient at all. 

Which left only one option. Mortified, Obi-Wan opened his shields a tiny crack. 

//Master? Are you there?//

It took a moment for an answering thought to float across their training bond. Qui-Gon had clearly been asleep already. Or possibly in meditation. Now, and that was abundantly clear through the bond, he was concerned.

//Obi-Wan? What’s wrong?//

//Can you come…? Hard to explain.// _Hard._ He’d be laughing at himself if he wasn’t so horrified.

//On my way.// He heard the thump of Qui-Gon all but jumping from his bed, and wondered briefly if the Master would stop long enough to put some clothes on. Not that he’d be able to see anyway with his eyes drifted shut and his mouth half-open in a languid smile.

He could hear all right though, and the sound of Qui-Gon pushing the door open was forceful and welcome, the sound of his voice balm to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Padawan! Are you all right? What happened?”

Sharply, Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon’s body dropping to a crouch beside his bed, felt a hand touch his face while another felt for his pulse. Wanted to scream with how intense these touches were, these very hands touching him but all wrong, all tinged with concern and fear.

//Stupid, stupid, stupid.//

“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s voice had gained a level of loudness and intensity. “Look at me.”

//I can’t… paralyzed. Wasn’t supposed to happen.//

The hands abruptly left his face, and Obi-Wan felt arms burrowing between him and the mattress. “We need to get you to the Healers, clearly.”

//No!//

“No? Obi-Wan, you’re incapacitated!”

//Just pull it out, it will fade… my own damn fault for trusting Vos.//

“Pull it out? Pull what out?”

Obi-Wan thought he would combust from the heat in his cheeks, not to mention the heat in his groin, stoked ever higher by the very real sensation of Qui-Gon holding on to him, still ready to lift him up bodily and drag him to the Halls of Healing.

//Toy. In me. Sorry.//

The last thing Obi-Wan had expected was for Qui-Gon to laugh. Not a scathing laugh, just a warm, breathy chuckle. It sounded relieved. “Hold on, Padawan. And… excuse me for invading your pants.”

Obi-Wan actually held his breath as Qui-Gon slipped a hand into the waistband of his pants, deftly bypassing his straining cock and setting a trail of skin aflame until he had found the source of the problem. Strong fingertips closed around the base of the toy, and a pulse of deep-seated, blood-thick sensation washed over Obi-Wan as he felt it being gently pulled out of his body.

//Thank you, Master.//

“Any time.” A pause, and Obi-Wan wished dearly that he could open his eyes. “Hmmm,” Qui-Gon said finally.

//What?//

“Sinnah wood? It’s been a while for me too, but that is some powerful stuff, Obi-Wan.”

“...ow ‘t?” Obi-Wan coughed, relieved at how the effects were already beginning to wear off. He was still helplessly slack and helplessly aroused, but at least his voice was beginning to cooperate.

//...you know it?// he tried again, though the bond. 

“Oh yes. It’s a badly-kept secret among humanoids, and when you mentioned Padawan Vos, the conclusion was an easy one to jump to. Did he neglect to tell you, I wonder, that the tree this is made from is slightly Force-sensitive?”

//Yes. Force-sensitive?//

Qui-Gon chuckled. “It picks up on the energy of its user’s fantasies. And with you being a powerful Force user, and apparently quite intense sexually, it seems to have gone a little overboard.”

Obi-Wan let out a groan. //I’d like to crawl under the bed right now but I can barely keep my eyes open.//

“I could pull the covers over you?” Qui-Gon suggested with a smile.

//Please. I’m sorry to put you through this, Master. I’m sure I will be all right come morning.//

“I am sure you will,” Qui-Gon replied as he pulled a sheet over Obi-Wan, tucking him in like a youngling. “Are you sure you want me to leave you alone though?”

“Please,” Obi-Wan said softly. “And… please take your hand off… there. I can’t guarantee anything at the moment.”

Qui-Gon’s soft laugh was still echoing in his head, the remembered touch of those hands still ghosting along his body when Obi-Wan regained enough control of his muscles to thrust himself to a gasping, frenzied orgasm with nothing but the weight of a sheet to rub against. 

When he woke an unknown amount of time later, he found, to his relief, that his limbs were once again functional. Sore, but definitely responsive. And he needed to get out of these stained leggings. And drink some water. Carefully not thinking about the awkwardness of having to face his Master in the morning, Obi-Wan took a few cautious steps holding on to the bedframe before stripping out of his dirty sleep pants and pulling a pair of fresh ones from his already-packed bag. _Walking works, thank the Force_.

He ventured out into the common room, intent on getting himself a drink of water as quietly as possible when he noticed that it wasn’t his own slightly clumsy steps making the noise. 

The noise was coming from Qui-Gon’s room. And the door was ajar. And Qui-Gon’s shields were fairly tight but… the noises. 

For a second, Obi-Wan wondered whether he could blame his lack of control on the aftereffects of the Sinnah wood - his feet carried him to Qui-Gon’s door, and his mouth fell decidedly slack at the sight. Qui-Gon, mercifully, was too busy to notice him.

Too busy thrusting into his own fist, sprawled shamelessly on his back, hair everywhere, mouth open and eyes closed in a rictus of pure bliss, throaty little moans fighting their way out on every labored breath. Obi-Wan thirsted, and no, it was not water that he craved. 

It was, however, water that he got, after a long moment transfixed by the sight of Qui-Gon’s pleasure. He had all but taken the first step away from that mesmerizing sight when Qui-Gon came with a strangled roar, splashing a thin rope of seed over his hand and belly and all but melting into a puddle of perfectly sated Jinn. The room _smelled_ of him. Obi-Wan stood in shock once more, knowing he needed to get out of here before Qui-Gon noticed, and unable to move. It did, of course, make sense, that as a Jedi master, Qui-Gon would be more in control of his body’s reactions, as was evident from the fact that he was still moving his hips and hand and even using his voice but… 

...that last… sound had not been a mindless noise. 

_That had been his name._

***

When Obi-Wan emerged from the ‘fresher after a nice long shower and an unusually hard scrub that he hoped would wake his skin all the way back up and also clear some of the residual… memories of last night, Qui-Gon greeted him already fully dressed and with a pot of tea in his hand. Obi-Wan tried his best to focus on the tea and not the hand; it wouldn’t do to start the day blushing crimson already.

“Good morning, Obi-Wan. I hope you managed to get some decent sleep after all?”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan looked at his feet. “I’m sorry. That was careless of me.”

Qui-Gon chuckled and poured himself a cup of tea, then with a slight raise of his eyebrows, asked if Obi-Wan wanted one too. “We’ve all been there, Padawan. And your reaction was _quite_ unusual for Sinnah wood. Tea?”

“Yes, please,” Obi-Wan replied softly. “I can’t believe I let myself get this… carried away.”

“Two things,” Qui-Gon said evenly as he put the teapot down. “No, three things. First, you didn’t try this in the middle of a mission when it could actually have become an issue. Second, you were present of mind enough to ask for help when it became clear you were in over your head. And third… I have a confession to make. Two, possibly.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “ _You_ have a confession to make?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon said, sipping his tea. “I admit I, uh, tested your new toy last night. To make sure it was safe… and,” he cast his eyes down, “and because I was having a hard time sleeping after… helping you. Forgive your old Master for trying to relive his glory days of random horniness?” Qui-Gon’s smile was wistful, and lopsided, and Obi-Wan had to use every ounce of control in his body to not want to eat it. 

“I have a confession to make too,” Obi-Wan murmured, staring into his tea.

“Oh?” Qui-Gon sounded amused. “In case you were going to apologize again for taking your body’s needs in hand, Padawan, that is a healthy human behavior and needs no -”

“I watched. You.”

Qui-Gon’s mouth dropped open, tea forgotten.

“I watched you. I was going to get myself a drink of water and… there you were. You were loud. And… I just couldn’t look away.” His voice cut out, a bright blush coloring his cheeks.

//...you were beautiful, Master.//

For a long time, neither man said anything. 

Tea cooled in their cups, steam wisping away into nothingness, replaced by hazy images of longing and doubt and regret, and dreams, dreams that had been held tight, close to chests, within tight shields, for a length of time that seemed to surprise both of them. 

“Well, that explains something about your… Sinnah wood ride.” Qui-Gon said finally, making a face at the cold tea in his cup. 

Obi-Wan frowned, struck by the strangeness of feeling those muscles engaging when his entire face wanted to break open in a terrifying grin. “What do you mean?”

“The intensity of the experience is often tied to the intensity of the user’s connection to the Force. And… to the person or persons they are fantasizing about. If my theory is correct, and… I mean, I have no evidence to the contrary… the wood was feeding you some of _my_ energy on top of yours.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “That was, in all honesty, frightening as hell. I mean, yes I’m glad you rescued me but there’s no way I would want to go through that experience ever again.”

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. “If you wish, we may never speak of this again. Though allow me to say one thing to you, Obi-Wan: you were beautiful too.”

“No!” Obi-Wan jumped up from the table, upsetting his teacup. “Not ‘never speak of this again’, Master! Not after what you just showed me! I _want_ every part of it except the paralysis and the terror! I want… I want _just_ you. Just the touches and the warmth of your hands, and… you, Master. Qui-Gon. With nothing added, and nothing removed.”

Qui-Gon stared. “That… still leaves a lot of me.”

Obi-Wan laughed, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. “Believe me, I know. I have spent enough sleepless nights thinking about it.”

“And you may have to spend a few more,” Qui-Gon sighed. “Because it would be unwise to… consummate our mutual desire in the middle of a Council-mandated mission.”

“Master?”

“What?”

“I am a Jedi as much as you are. I learned from the best. I will be able to control my urges for another few days. But then…” and he leaned in close until his breath tickled the hairs by Qui-Gon’s ear, “then I will have no business with ‘consummating a mutual desire’, Master. Then I want to _consume_ you. Watch you fall apart. And give myself up to your hands. And let you… fuck me.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and his face, when he pulled back, was bright pink. It was a devastatingly good look on him, and Qui-Gon knew that he was not far behind when it came to being flushed. 

“I am devastated, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly. “By the depths of desire in you. And my willingness to give in to them. This is a narrow path we are considering, Obi-Wan.” A deep breath. “And one I will be happy to follow you down.”

Both of Obi-Wan’s hands tightened on one of Qui-Gon’s, and he was momentarily surprised at how cool they were. 

“I suspect,” Obi-Wan said with a smirk, “that this mission will contain rather a lot of negotiation that will have _nothing_ to do with the mission brief.”

“As is appropriate, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said gravely, amusement dancing around his eyes. “Human souls are fragile, and human bodies can be brutal weapons.”

“Yours especially. Ooph.” Obi-Wan fanned himself with one hand. 

“Ever the diplomat, I see. You’ll go far, Kenobi.”

“You’ll go _down_ , Jinn. Just you wait until we’re done with this little trade spat.”

***

Obi-Wan cursed his hands for letting go of the box - between the hardships of the last few months and the desert air leaching the remaining moisture from his cracked hands, it was a miracle he was able to hold on to anything any more. Time seemed to slip through his fingers like sand, and if he hadn’t been keeping track of the days with notches on the central pole of his makeshift tent home, he could have sworn it had been decades already.

It had been weeks. He felt older, far older, than his forty-something standard years. He would have to build himself something more permanent. When his hands were ready.

Bending over, he picked up the scattered contents of the box from where they had fallen on the sand-scoured rug that formed the floor of his abode.

A river rock, gray and smooth and echoing faintly in the Force. A cut-off length of brown human hair, braided and adorned with beads. Mementoes of people who had ceased to be.

A piece of sculpted wood, cracked and dulled from years of neglect. A memento of something that never came to be. 

Obi-Wan knew he could ill afford to lose any more moisture, but no amount of angry wiping could convince his eyes to stop dripping soft spots of darkness on the thirsty wood. 

Maybe, one day, he would spend some of his precious oil on it and bring it back to life, and maybe one day, when his duty here was complete, he would let it take him down again, into blessed oblivion, to spend his last moments in the illusion of his favorite pair of hands holding him down.

The desert air sucked his tears off his face before they had even finished rolling down into his beard, a phantom touch marking the end of the thin wet trail. Obi-Wan blinked to clear his eyes.

Not the desert air.

//I may not have the strength to hold you _down_ any more, Master Kenobi...//

“Hold me. Just hold me.”

//Yes.//


End file.
